


Goodnight

by Raexneol



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: I'm Sorry, M/M, Mavin, sad things are sad, this may give you feelings idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raexneol/pseuds/Raexneol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things are better left said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the lovely buttskun on Tumblr because she said she wanted to cry.

“Michael. Hey, Michael, come on, they said you would at least feel colder.”

 

Michael chewed on his lip as he watched the video he was editing, a frown marring his features every time he had to pause, backtrack, and mess with the levels.

 

“Mi-coooool. Michael! Hey, come on, just look in this general direction!”

 

The redhead sighed as he glanced at the time—eleven now—then at the desk next to him, where Ryan was now set up. Gavin perked up, smiling brightly from his perch atop the desk, but Michael’s eyes slid right over him and his smile dimmed.

 

Man, being dead sucked.

 

“They said… They said you’d be able to at least _sense me_ …” Gavin said, a bit of anger creeping into his tone as he waved his hand in front of Michael’s face. His brows furrowed as nothing happened—no shiver, no flash of memory or sadness or recognition or anything. For a moment, he was just lost; it had only been, what, four months since his death? Four months, that wasn’t enough time for his best mate to just… just forget about him, right?

 

Right?

 

“Michael… Michael, please…”

 

Michael sighed sharply and stood up, stretching hard enough that his back popped. He pulled his headphones off and dropped them onto his desk, grabbing his keys and doing a check-through of the office to make sure everything was off that should have been. Gavin turned on a monitor; Michael just shut it off, muttering, “Fucking power surges, shit.”

 

“A power surge wouldn’t turn on a computer screen, you doughnut,” Gavin murmured, giving a watery smile.

 

_Are you sure_ he’s _the last one you want to see? He won’t notice if he’s forgotten._

_Of course I am, Michael would never forget me._

“You silly sausage, you’ve completely forgotten about me, haven’t you?” he whispered, smiling to fight off the tears he could feel burning behind his eyes. Stupid, why could ghosts cry? He’d dealt with enough pain; he remembered the accident—was that not enough? Now he had to have his heart ripped apart before he was finally gone for good?

 

He followed Michael out to his car, doing increasingly ridiculous stunts to try to get his former friend’s attention. He stepped on the back of Michael’s shoe (Michael thought he just stepped out of it), tried to pants him (“Fuck, I need to leave some of this shit at home…”), tried to trip him (“ _Fuck_ what is with gravity, fuck this noise.”), yelled at him, tried to grab him (that didn’t work out too well), and finally threw the hood of his jacket up over his head (“Fuck you, wind.”)

 

Nothing.

 

He knew Michael had a skeptical view of religion and the afterlife, but was there no single part of him, not even a little part in the back of his brain that even _wanted_ this to be him?

 

“Michael.”

 

Gavin had been at it for hours.

 

He’d made lights flicker, things move, papers rustle, electronics flash, everything he could think of, and all he got was some annoyed muttering and kicked appliances. He’d tried standing in the same space as Michael, trying to make him feel cold or uneasy or anything, but it was no good.

 

“Michael.”

 

He’d been reduced to this, sitting next to his best mate on his couch, saying his name at random intervals, increasing volumes, different distances… anything to elicit a response.

 

Nothing.

 

“Michael, just… Please, say something. Look at me. Please, just listen! Listen to me, I can’t just leave without—damnit, without all these, these _things_ I never said, you have to hear me, you have to… you _have_ to…”

 

He didn’t.

 

By the time Michael got out of the shower and went to bed, Gavin was almost hoarse from shouting (or he would have been, if this insubstantial form could tire at all) and had taken to just staring morosely, watching the redhead’s every move with sad green eyes. He would occasionally whisper the other man’s name, reaching out to try to touch him as he walked by. That was what he missed most, he’d realized—when he was alive, he could just reach out to Michael and the redhead would touch him. Fist bump, high five, hell, he’d even hold his hand if Gavin was persistent enough about it, but now…

 

Now he was just so cold.

 

“It’s lonely here, Michael. I thought it would be great fun, you know, following you lads around, getting to mess with you when you couldn’t see me. It was hard at first, realizing I was gone. It’s all so… final. You never really realize what you really wanted to do with your life until it’s over and you can see it… They let you see it, if you want. I wanted to know if I ever fell in love. Isn’t that stupid, all the things I could ask about and I just wanted to know if I was _supposed_ to die alone, or if I just _did_.”

 

He looked at Michael, who was crawling into bed. He was wearing his Fluttershy pajama bottoms. For some reason, that made Gavin start crying.

 

“I was supposed to be with you. Did you know that?”

 

Michael didn’t respond. He didn’t hear him. He didn’t see him.

 

He never really had.

 

“It was supposed to be you. We were so happy, Michael. It was _bliss_ , I felt it. I felt how it was to be so loved by someone I loved so much. I love so much. Michael… My little boy Michael…” Gavin looked away, pressing a hand to his eyes. The tears were coming thick and fast now, his breath hitching in his chest as he sobbed. And still, _still_ Michael didn’t hear.

 

Michael slipped beneath the covers, a shiver wracking his frame. Gavin slid in, too, invisible under the sheets. He wrapped his arms around Michael, stroking his hair and sobbing harder when he realized he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel Michael’s warmth. He couldn’t feel his hair. He couldn’t feel his skin.

 

And Michael couldn’t feel him.

 

“I love you, Michael. I always have. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’ll wait for you there. Always. I’ll always wait for you, Michael.”

 

Michael was asleep when Gavin finally disappeared, vaporized into the air around the redhead, sinking into his pores and settling onto his skin. With a start, the gamer awoke, his eyes wet, a sob tearing from his lips.

 

“Gavin.” He’d forgotten to tell his best friend goodnight. He’d done it every night for the past four months. Every single night. He talked to the Brit when he was alone, but tonight he was too busy, too fixated on everything he had to get done tomorrow, too frustrated by the conversation he’d had with Geoff earlier. “Gavin, man, I’m sorry. You’re still my boy, Gavino. Goodnight. I’ll see you soon,” he said, wiping his eyes and rolling over onto his side.

 

His brows furrowed when he felt a sharp something dig into his shoulder. Reaching under himself, his eyes widened—no way. Michael sat up as he lifted it up to the moonlight, the eternally sad face of the Creeper on Gavin’s necklace glinting at him. He didn’t wonder, didn’t ask questions, just cried as he latched the catch around his own neck, the pendant resting beside his own, the one he hadn’t removed since his best friend’s accident months ago. He’d never take this one off, either.

 

“Goodbye, Gavin.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I didn't mean to
> 
> Original post links you back to my blog: http://heresthefuckyoubutton.tumblr.com/post/46201369360/i-made-another-thing
> 
> Thank you for reading. :)


End file.
